


071 - Shy, Smart Girl

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “Can you do van dating a shy, smart girl I think that would be so cute”





	071 - Shy, Smart Girl

When you were little you used to love going on tour with your parents. You'd watch your dad from side of stage, and as he played guitar to thousands of people, your mum would hold your hand tight and look at you both with pride in her eyes. They'd met because of music and you were born because of it too. She was his band's manager for a long time before they split. It had happened when you were about fifteen. That's when your personality shifted, and you became more reserved and shy. You had spent your entire life thinking that true love existed and that things could work out for people. Watching the dissolution of your parents' marriage, and saying goodbye to your mother as she boarded a plane heading somewhere, changed the ideology. It wasn't worth getting to know people, they'd all leave you in the end.

As the first semester of your university degree was winding up, you stopped having to go to class. It was all revision for exams and assignment writing. Your dad called and told you about the tour. Their first in a while. You could hear he was apprehensive about going. People online made jokes about the band's age, and how they should probably call it a day. You told him that music was the thing he loved most, and therefore he should do it. He reminded you that he loved you most, and you wanted to believe it.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" he asked. "You're quieter than usual.” 

"I don't know. I'm just… I thought I'd like the time away from campus. I just… I'm crawling out of my skin or something."

Apparently, that was enough to launch him into Dad Mode. Soon, you were packed and joining them on tour. You'd be back in time for exams, and you could have your own hotel room every night spent off the bus. The only catch, your father told you, was that the tour was a mini-festival, and there were a bunch of other bands coming. No doubt, there would be people that would try to get to know you, to get to him. It was a reality you’d faced your whole life, so you were prepared.

…

You were standing in line in the catering tent, highlighting sections of a textbook, when someone walked straight into you. They had meant to stop at the end of the line, obviously, but they weren't looking. You pushed your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose and went to find your place on the page again.

"Sorry, love! I just walked right into you!" someone said. You looked up. It was a boy, probably your age, probably in a band, probably had a hard on for your dad. You smiled and shrugged. "What are you reading?" he asked.

"Just a book for school," you replied, trying to make it sound boring and therefore like something he would not want to keep asking about.

"You're still in school?"

"University… school…" You didn't look that young.

"Oh. Right," he said laughing. He ran a hand through his hair and it may have been habit or it may have been nerves. The extroverted tone of his voice provided evidence for it being habit. "You go to uni and have a job here? You in a band or-"

"What can I get you?" the guy serving up food asked you. You turned your attention to him quick, then another person asked the guy what he wanted. It gave you time to grab a plate and scurry away to a table in the far corner. You sat down and kept highlighting.

"So, you in a band?" The guy had followed you and had taken up a seat opposite you. You looked around to confirm that yes, yes there were many other seats available.

"No,"

"What do you do here then?" he asked. He had started to chew his food and he was looking at you with curiosity in his eyes. He wasn't at all reading your discomfort.

"Um… My dad's working here, so I'm just here with him," you offered. He nodded, happy with the answer. You put your book down on the table and started to eat too. Maybe if you had your mouth full of food he wouldn't ask you to speak.

"Chemistry?" he said, reading the title of the book. "It's like, Breaking Bad, innit?" 

"Do you like Breaking Bad?" you replied.

"No. I mean, maybe. I don't know. Never watched it. Don't watch a lot of T.V. Do you like it? Is that why you're doing it?"

"No." Instead of being deterred by your short replies, he seemed to think you were just thinking of something else to say. You'd never really spoken to someone who made so much eye contact. "Um. I've always liked science. Ever since I was little.”

Your love for chemistry was in you for as long as you could remember. Your parents weren't sure how they'd raised a scientist, but in white lab coats surrounded by the smells of burning substances was where you felt most at ease. You were doing a combined degree in applied chemistry and theoretical physics. You didn't know much about physics, really, but you liked the idea. You had understood string theory when your high school teacher explained it to you during a lunch break. Well, you understood her version, which was watered down and probably took presumptuous leaps in logic. Multiple universes provided a good contrast to the concrete science of chemistry, and you felt like a more holistic seeker of universal truths.

"Did you make the volcano do the thing and that was it?" You smiled, because you had done the volcano practical and yes it had done the thing and yes you fell in love. You nodded.

Two other people sat at the table then; one next to you and one next to the other guy. They all knew each other and you began to get increasingly more uncomfortable. The guy went to introduce you but realised you'd not formally met.

"Sorry! I'm Van. You're-"

"You don't recognise her?" one of the new guys said. He was wearing a hat and seemed a little older than the other two. He looked at you. He broke the news of who your father was. He didn't remember your first name, though.

"Y/N," you said quietly.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Oh my dad just works here," Van said mimicking your voice. He wasn't being mean, he was clearly very impressed and thought you were being humble. Like somehow your father's accomplishments were your own. "What was it like growing up around…" he paused in thought and looked around, then motioned with his hands at everything all at once, "all of this?"

"Um… I don't know… Normal, for me, I guess?"

"Yeah. That makes sense," Van replied. And that is how lunch went for you. Van would ask broad questions that really you could have written essays in reply to, but you answered in the least amount of words possible. He didn't seem offended by it, though. The others asked fewer questions. The one in the hat, Bondy, guitar, watched you and Van with an expression of vague interest. The guy next to you, Larry, exact job unknown, was also in awe of who you were. 

You wanted to somehow make them understand that your inability to engage in loud conversation did not demonstrate an apathy towards music or touring or them as people, but more your own inner shyness, but psychology was not your area of science. They left you alone when their band was called for interviews, and Van said he'd catch up with you later. It sounded more like a promise than a valediction.

…

The first night your dad's band played you watched from side of stage. They still had it, and clearly the crowd agreed. The second show you watched again, and saw Van on the other side. His face was lit up in amazement and you could see that he was watching the future he wanted. You skipped the third show and stayed on the tour bus. It was two stories of the best mode of road transport. You even had your own room on the top floor, at the end. It was small, but it was private. You napped well into the night, listening to the far away music. You woke up when you heard people outside talking. You carefully slid open one of the small windows. You recognised one of the voices immediately. It was Van. You couldn't see them, but assumed they were by the bus.

"It's not, like, private property so it's not illegal," he said to the second person.

"Yeah but we'll get kicked off the tour and blacklisted from every festival ever,"

"Nah. I just want to see what it's like. It's all dark in there. Nobody's home. I'll be, like, two minutes tops. Just wait here if you're chicken, mate,"

"Fuck you, McCann."

You tiptoed out of your room and down the tiny staircase. You sat at the 'kitchen' table and peeked through the windows. Van was slowly opening the door. The curly haired guy behind him was looking around nervously. Then, Van appeared in the bus. You realised you should have turned a light on earlier, to scare them off before they made it on board. You were surprised the door was even unlocked. At first, Van didn't notice you. Too still, too dark. When the curly hair boy walked up behind Van he spotted you straight away. He jumped and screamed and it made Van jump and scream and your heart stopped beating altogether. You stood up and quickly turned on a light while they recovered.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N," Van said between harsh intakes of breath. He started to laugh hysterically. The other guy was holding his chest like he was having a heart attack. You looked at him with sympathy. "What the fuck are you doing sitting in the dark?"

"Um. I just woke up. But… uh, what are you doing creeping around in the dark?" you asked back with a much more relevant and fair question than his.

"Please don't tell your dad,"

"This is…?" the curly haired boy said, like a conversation had been had about you in your absence. Van nodded at him.

"Y/N, this is Benji. He's the bass player in the band."

You waved awkwardly. He said hi.

"What are you doing though?" you asked again. Benji looked around nervously. Van still seemed confident and sure.

"I really just wanted to see what it was like in here. This is what we want to get to, you know. Selling out the biggest venues in the world. Living on the road. It just seems… surreal. It's got to be ace, right? Just wanted to see what it's like."

Van looked at the future with the same nostalgia that most people look at the past with. You wanted to tell him that all of it wasn't anywhere near as glamorous as he thought. You wanted him to think carefully about being in love with his band more than himself. It couldn't be sunshine and melody forever. You also didn't want to break his heart. Most musicians you met were either jaded or egotistical. Van was neither.

You turned the lights on and gave them a tour, letting the space do the talking. As they walked off the bus Van looked back up at you and stared for a second.

"Would you have swapped your life for a normal one?" he asked.

"What?" you replied, a little jarred by the question.

"I mean… I want kids. I want to fall in love with some smart, pretty girl, and have a million babies, but… I want this too… I can have both, right? Your dad does. And you turned out beautifully, so I can have both?" You could see he needed you to say yes, but you stumbled in the processing of his words when he said 'beautifully.'

"I wouldn't have swapped it," was all you could say. It was not a lie, but it wasn't close to the truth.

…

Your dad promised that he would have two solids hours to sit down with you and help you study. You needed someone to read through your revision questions and quiz you. Fifteen minutes after he was meant to come to your hotel room, there was a knock on the door. You bounced over and yanked it open with forceful happiness. Your grin dropped straight away when Van was standing there.

"Wow… don't look so happy to see me," he said, joking.

"Sorry… I was expecting my dad," you explained.

"I know. He sent me. He's caught up with some contract thing and told me to come up and help you study." You didn't even know your dad knew who Van was. Van read that in your expression. "I met him the other day. I didn't even lose my shit around him. Pretty sure he thinks I'm like, super cool,"

"He doesn't think anyone's cool,"

"No! He knew one of my songs already! He does. Anyway. He said someone told him they saw us talk and then he asked me a million questions then he sent me here. So, ta-dah, I'm here to help!"

You let him in and tried to suppress the disappointment. You handed over the quiz and explained what you needed him to do. Van stumbled over a lot of the names of elements and theories. After only ten minutes you could see how confused he was at the content.

"This is like… way more than remembering that table of stuff,"

"The periodic table. Yes. I already have that memorised. I did that when I was ten,"

"Ten? Go on, then, impress me,"

From hydrogen to oganesson, reciting the table was something you'd do under your breath whenever you felt panicked. It was easy, second nature. It was like the alphabet. To Van, though, it was another language entirely. He was clearly impressed. You almost continued onto quantum mechanics, but thought you'd leave it until you bumped into him while he was drunk. That would be entertaining.

When the quiz was over, and you'd got almost everything correct (the one you got wrong Van said didn't count because he fucked up the pronunciation so badly that you couldn't have possibly understood the question) Van watched you file the notes away in the right folder.

"You're like, dead fucking smart. You're probably the smartest person I've ever met,"

"You ever been to the doctors?"

"Yeah,"

"Doctors are probably smarter than me."

Van paused for a moment, then said, "You don't do too well with compliments, do you?" You shrugged. "Can I ask you something?" You nodded. "You lied the other night when I asked if living on the road was a good childhood, didn't you?"

The anecdotal evidence you have gathered over your life had shown that awkward shy people make other people feel awkward. You were saddened by this truth, but it was your experience nonetheless. Van seemed to be exempt from this human condition. Your silence didn't make him silent. Your slinking in the shadows and avoiding eye contact didn't make him not look at you.

"No. Yes. Not entirely. I really wouldn't have swapped my life for a more traditional one,"

"But?"

"But it's been lonely, I guess. Music brought my parents together, but all the touring tore them apart too. I haven't seen my mum in ages. When they got divorced it was pretty messy. It was hard to keep it all together, for him I guess, even with her being in the business too."

You'd never really talked to anyone about your parents' divorce. You never really talked about your feelings about anything to anyone. Van watched you carefully as you spoke, and nodded in response. He thought for a second.

"Why'd you stay with him and not go with her?"

A really fucking good question. You didn't have an answer. You shrugged and it was enough of an answer for him. One bad case study wasn't enough to kill his dream though. You were happy about that. His head tilted to the side and something about him seemed calmer and softer all of a sudden. He asked if you needed to keep studying, and you did. You showed him the readings you needed to finish and explained how it was hard to be motivated to read huge chunks of academic texts. He laughed and said he'd only ever read one book his entire life, so you were doing significantly better than him. He said he had an idea, and ran from your hotel room.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and like before you bounced to let Van back in. Standing in the frame was your dad, though. You could see he was about to apologise, but you spoke first.

"It's fine,"

"No, Y/N, it's not. I said I'd be here and I wasn't-"

"Just, stop!" Apologies always made you cringe. "I said it's fine. I'm fine. Van was here. He helped, I'm good."

He stood looking at you, and you hated when he did that. It was like he was looking for the mistakes he'd made in your expression. The elevator down the hall chimed and Van walked out. He was carrying an acoustic guitar and a comically large bag of M&Ms. He slowed when he looked up and saw you talking to your dad. He came to a complete stop halfway down the hall. Your dad looked over at him, then back at you. There was nothing else to say. He took a step back and walked towards the elevator. He didn't say anything to Van when he passed him. Van moved to stand with you. You just stood and breathed for a minute.

"Come on," Van whispered and pushed you into your hotel room. "Okay, so, I'm going to mark in your book little sections, right, and when you finish a little section you can have some M&Ms, and that will help you read faster."

You were so fucking grateful for the distraction. "How will you know if I actually read it. I could be faking,"

"Huh… I would have trusted you… but… now you have to also tell me about what you just read too. That will help you remember it better anyway, right?"

"Yeah. What's the guitar for?"

"Give me something to do while you read," he said with a shrug. He took your book off the table and made little markers with a pink highlighter. After handing the book to you, he kicked off his boots and sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. He started to play and the notes were quiet and lazy, but melodious in their simplicity.

The system worked. You spent two hours trying to catch M&Ms in your mouth as Van threw them to you. That replaced Van pouring straight from the bag; you almost choked when they went down your throat without being chewed. Van apologised for almost killing you. When he was called for soundcheck he left the chocolate and his guitar with you.

…

It was the last show of the tour. You hadn't missed one of Catfish's set since Van helped you study, and whenever his eyes crossed yours while he was throwing himself around stage, he'd grin wide. He loved performing live as much as you loved blowing shit up in a chem lab. You would always disappear after though. You avoided the communal areas and spend most of your time on your dad's bus. Van's bubbly personality was infectious, but you kept it contained to the petri dish of small safe spaces. Apparently, this had not gone unnoticed by Van.

There was a knock on the bus door, followed by him calling out your name in a sing-song voice. You opened up and leant against the wall.

"What?"

"Hello to you too. Come on. I know you don't like… people? Crowds? Okay, I don't know what you don't like exactly, but it's the last night. You've got to come party with us. Studying can wait, yeah?" You considered the proposal. Your arms were folded across your chest and Van looked up at you with all the hopefulness of a child. He stepped closer, and he only came up to your waist; the bus providing platform. "You're doing that little smile that means you want to say yes but you're just too scared to,"

"I'm a chem major. We're not scared of anything,"

"You're not scared of acid and shit, and all that trippy parallel universe stuff you talk 'bout, but you're scared of like… real fun?"

"Fuck you,"

"Sure, if you want, but after the party. Come on," he said as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you from the bus. He put you on the ground and closed the bus door. His hand was holding yours, and he was pulling you through the parking lot.

"I don't want to drink," you told him.

"Don't have to,"

"Are you going to?"

"Not if you don't want me to," he answered honestly.

"Van, wait," you said. He stopped and turned to you. "I just… I'm… You're right. I am scared. I don't know how to…" you tried to explain with your hands but it didn’t achieve much. "I don't know how to do... people like you do. I always just end up sitting somewhere in a corner all night and it's not fun, and-"

Then you couldn’t form words. Van had stepped in the space between you and him, and he was kissing you. One hand was wrapped around the back of your neck, and the other was still holding your hand. You didn't even consciously know you wanted him to do it until the moment he was. You kissed back and the force of your movement made him smile, breaking the kiss.

"I won't leave you alone. I promise."

You nodded and followed him into the fairy light lit backstage party. 

Science was predictable by nature, and maybe that was what you liked about it. There was a method and a procedure to it that would ensure an outcome easily hypothesised. Van was unpredictable by nature, and that was exactly what you loved about him. There was nothing that could be done to guess what he'd do. You could be sure it would be full of passion, and joy, and kindness, but other than that he was a beautifully chaotic person that was going to be good for you.

Later in the night, while you were making out under a tree like teenagers who had skipped class, all hidden in shadows and giggly, your dad walked past. At first he kept walking, not noticing. Then, he processed the image of Van kissing someone, then the image of that someone being you. He came to stand near you and you didn't open your eyes for another few seconds. They only flew open when your dad cleared his throat. You and Van sprung apart. You bit down on your lip to contain a laugh. Van looked like he was about to die. He started to ramble apologies, and explain that he really liked you "like, proper" and that he thought you were the most clever person in the world and that he'd be good to you. Your dad held a hand up and Van stopped talking immediately.

"Just know, McCann, that if you hurt her, your band will never make another album or play another show again, yeah?" You could hear in his voice that your dad was joking; just fucking with Van. Van didn't know that though, and he nodded frantically. Your dad gave you a small smile and walked away. Van looked at you.

"Breathe," you instructed. He let out the breath he'd been holding. "You know he was joking, right?"

"God, he's fucking terrifying."

You laughed and pulled Van back closer to you. He shook his head and settled quickly back into the kiss.


End file.
